


The Great Rogers

by orphan_account



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, We all know how this ends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"‘Yes. Yes! It is good you’re a girl. Being a girl means you can play the fool and no one will question it. The world will expect nothing more. So, play the fool, my darling girl!’ Shows you a lot about how I’ve come to feel, right?"</p>
<p>Sam Wilson has decided to move to West Egg, where he meets his wealthy, mysterious neighbor Mr. Rogers, becomes friends with a Russian Ballet dancer and watches as an old war friend's world falls apart spectacularly. This all happens as he gets swept up in the glitz and glam of New York in the 20s. </p>
<p>Basically, the Great Gatsby with our lovable/infuriating Avengers and Agent Carter cast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1- Sam Moves to West Egg

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried to follow quite closely to the book, as I'm sure most of you will notice. I attribute the genius of most lines to Fitzgerald, but I did tried to turn some of the main points the characters are trying to make towards the characters of the MCU. I hope you find that it isn't too similar.

In my younger years, just after training and before the war, my wingman Riley gave me some advice that hasn’t quite left my mind since. 

“My old man used to say, ‘If you ever feel like criticizing anyone, remember all the people who haven’t had the opportunities you’ve had.’” 

“What to be black, in the army, fighting the Germans on the frontline? To be shot before we wallow in the mud?” I looked at him like he was crazy, but he just kept sipping his beer grinning like he knew something I didn’t. 

We didn’t talk about it after that. I guess I’ve always been pretty good at letting people say what they need to, people have a habit of telling me things. Makes them feel better. I guess Riley needed to feel fortunate then because maybe in some way he knew that his plane would be flying right next to mine one minute and then be dropping out of the sky the next. I understood the need to pretend to be fortunate after that. It helps on the days when you can’t forget the blood in the trenches, to put on the face of eternal gratitude and pretend like life was the wonderland everyone kept saying it was. 

That’s how I found myself moving to West Egg. An old friend from the war had insisted I move out there, that everyone who was anyone was moving to New York and making money. I had managed to secure a job with the newly establish Veterans Bureau and decided there was as good as anywhere. 

I found a weathered bungalow where I found myself slowly beginning to enjoy life again. The summer was growing warm and I found myself reading novels on psychology determined to throw myself into my new found career wholeheartedly. Often I would read perched on top of the giant boulder that gave West Egg its name.

Although, I was living on the less fashionable side of the island, you wouldn’t have guessed it from my neighbor’s mansion. It was the Rogers’s Estate. My house in comparison was an eye-sore, but because it was small, no one took much notice of it. So, past Rogers’s lawn I had a view of the bay, across which was East Egg. It was ritzy, and at night it glowed and glittered with light blocking out some of the stars. 

It was over there that my old war friend Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes lived with his wife Dottie Underwood. We had become friends during my first part of the war, before I had been invited to become a pilot. We had written after he had lost his left arm, and once he came home, he was quickly engaged. He came from old money, and even as an injured veteran, he was still considered quite the catch. 

His wife, I had yet to meet. She was an actress and quite scandalously had not changed her name after marrying Bucky, on account of being well known for it. In one of Bucky’s earlier letters he had mentioned that her real name was Yelena Belova, but changed it so it would be more American. Honestly, I didn’t have the first clue what she was like as she only came up in parts of the letters here and there always spoken of like any other woman Bucky may have had flings with in the past, with clichés and brush offs. Needless to say, I was a little curious. 

So that’s how I found myself driving over to visit an old friend who I hadn’t seen since both of our lives had been changed forever and a woman I had only seen in a silent film. At least the sun was streaming down and the breeze off the water was nice and cool. 

Their house was the perfect mix of old and new money. The classical look of the stately pillars of their mansion was framed by the French windows. Shiny new cars flashed their wealth besides the manicured hedges of the long driveway. Their manicured lawns stretched their freshly mowed green blades towards the blue of the bay. 

I couldn’t help but let out a low whistle in awe as I walked up the cobblestone to the towering front door. Dottie opened the door before I could even knock. She stared at me like she already knew everything about me. A wide predatory smile that was probably meant to be sweet cut across her face. She was in riding clothes and stood with her legs firmly apart, bringing herself up to her full, imposing height so she could stare me in the eye. 

“Well, you must be Sam! I’ve heard all about you from James! It’s just swell that you could join us for brunch!” Her blonde curls bounced as her head tilted with her overly sweet drawl. 

I barely contained my shudder as I replied, “Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Bucky.” 

“Well come on in!” I would like to say that she bounced away, that my initial impression of her was that of any enthusiastic housewife, but instead, she seemed to glide away efficiently. Her boots didn’t make a sound on the cool marble floor. She moved as if a string ran through her spine to her head, a ballerina’s grace but with some form of raw rage that should be out of place in that body. A deadly form of beauty that I am sure many mistook for something less sinister. 

She kept up a steady stream of conversation, bubbling away about this or that about the house while I played the part of a dutiful guest and agreed and awed at the appropriate intervals. 

Eventually, we entered the main sitting room where Bucky sat next to a striking red headed woman. They were both dressed in white and the dark curtains snapped around them in the heavy breeze that was flowing through the windows. The red head I didn’t know was sprawled across the length of the couch, her chin was raised as if daring the world to take a swing at her. She noticed me in the room, briefly glancing when I entered, but gave no other acknowledgement. 

When Bucky noticed I had arrived, he moved to stand. His remaining right arm gripped the back of couch and his legs uncurled themselves from underneath him, but he did not rise completely. He seemed to recognize me, but the smile that ghosted his lips was not the same grin that I had known during the war. I’m sure mine was also not the same, but it still came as a bit of a shock. 

Bucky realized what he was doing, just staring, almost smiling, he dipped his head in apology, his unusually long, unruly hair curtaining his face. When he raised it again, he stood and went to hug me, “Forgive me, I was p-paralyzed with happiness.” And he laughed hollowly. 

After he laughed, he said something witty to the room and we all responded with our own practiced laughter. He told me he was delighted that I would go to the trouble of visiting him. He was playing the part of the perfect host well. He introduced me to the woman on the couch, Natasha Romanov. 

She gave me a look similar to the one Dottie had, but after she was finished seeing through me, she nodded her head in approval and grinned a welcome. When she lifted herself from the couch, she had the same deadly grace of Dottie, but instead of some hidden rage, she just exuded confidence. Oddly enough, she seemed vaguely familiar. 

I turned back to Bucky, who had talked in low muttered tones and I had to lean in to hear him. His eyes seemed far away like he was trying to desperately remember something, but somehow he had forgotten what there was to remember. We talked about our old units. 

“They missed you once you left.” I said earnestly. 

“Really?” He sounded excited and his eyes were bright. “We should have some of them over, right Dot? Tomorrow even!” He laughed and added irrelevantly, “You ought to see the baby.”

“I’d like to.” He hadn’t mentioned a child before.

“Well, she’s asleep. Haven’t I mentioned her before?”

“Never.”

“Well, you ought to see her. She’s –“

Dottie had been hovering around the room growing bored, but now put her hand firmly on my arm. “What are you doing, Sam?”

I told them about the new Veterans Bureau in town, welcoming Bucky to stop in whenever. 

“We’ve never heard of it.” She dismissed it.

I was starting to grow annoyed with her. “You will. They just started it to help the boys who come home.” 

“Well we don’t really talk too much about the war. Let bygones be bygones and such.” She turned her smile on full, her cheeks straining. “How about we dine on the patio? It’s such a lovely day.”

“Absolutely!” I had almost forgotten Miss Romanov was there. I had a feeling that if she didn’t want you to notice her, you wouldn’t, but she was also capable of such outbursts that would remind you at precisely the correct moment of her powers. 

No one made a move to leave the room quite yet. “You live in West Egg, don’t you?” Miss Romanov tilted her head and raised one eyebrow, the stillness of the rest of her while Bucky shifted restlessly gave her actions purpose. “I know someone there.” 

“Well, yes. But I’m afraid I don’t know-“

“You must know Rogers.”

“Rogers?” Demanded Bucky. “What Rogers?”

Before I could explain that he was my neighbor, the butler, announced that diner was ready. Dottie took the opportunity to wrap her surprisingly strong arm around bicep to steer me in what should have been a hospitable manner but left me stumbling to keep up. 

Throughout the dinner, Bucky and Miss Romanov jumped from one conversation topic to another with an easy flow of old familiarity, occasionally talking over one another and not letting the other hear the end of it if they did it. It was the sort of verbal sparring that I had seen written, but rarely witnessed in real life. Their topics seemed to bore Dottie who would sometimes sigh loudly so Bucky would notice and make a floundering effort to include her. Oddly enough, Miss Romanov and Dottie’s relationship did not seem close at all, a quiet understanding or professionalism. I was happy just to sit back and observe. 

As the evening started to blend into night, the backlight of the sunset highlighted Bucky’s easy laughs and soft spoken anecdotes about the Butler’s nose and such. Perhaps, I had just imagined the ghosts in his eyes earlier, trying to see my own problems in others. I decided that this afternoon had been an overall successful endeavor, despite Dottie’s occasional snide remark at dinner and bringing up a particularly problematic publication. 

She was suddenly summoned away for a phone call and I couldn’t help but smile just a bit wider with that insufferable woman gone. 

Bucky took that time to lean in towards me, telling me breathlessly, “It’s great to have ya back. You look quite handsome at my table, ain’t that right Tasha?” He shot a wink at Miss Romanov who just shoved his left shoulder and rolled her eyes in good nature. I just chuckled in return and watched him as him set his napkin down and went into the house. 

I shared a look with Miss Romanov but her expression was hard to read. She quirked a slight smile which was gone as soon as it appeared, and she turned to stare at the house with a fierce intensity. She shushed me when I tried to speak with her, and it would have been childish, if it weren’t for the intensity with which it was delivered. The conversation from the house was unintelligible rising and falling before ceasing. 

“So… you know my neighbor.”

“Would you stop? I’m trying to listen.” 

I decided to play the fool, feigning ignorance, “Is something happening?” I was too old to still believe that all marriages were problem free.

She looked right through my lie, but she decided to follow her lie up with the persona of the regular, gossiping dame that she knew everyone thought she ought to be, “Don’t you know? Well, I just thought everyone knew!” Her eyebrows flew up her head and her hand flapped about foolishly. 

“I’m terribly afraid I don’t.” I couldn’t tell if I was continuing this charade to protect Bucky’s reputation or to see if I could beat Miss Romanov at her own game. 

“Why…” She hid her mouth behind her hand for a moment, blushing and looking up at me, but I knew there was no actual remorse or embarrassment. “Dottie’s got some man in New York.”

“Some man.” I was actually surprised by that one. I thought they were just having a spat. 

Miss Romanov dropped her act and said in a low flat voice, “You’d think he’d had the decency not to call during dinner.” 

The two in question came back before I could respond. Bucky hollowly laughed, “Couldn’t be helped. Couldn’t be helped.” A tight smile ghosted his lips. 

The next few minutes were quite odd, comments on birds and horses thrown around haphazardly and conversations didn’t really go beyond the first throwaway line. Eventually, Dottie and Miss Romanov retreated into the library to discuss some business, a respectable amount of distance between the two. 

Bucky stood running his fingers through his long hair while staring out over the bay. He prattled on a little nervously while I politely pretended to listen. It was the little nothings that people were so prone to telling me. Sentences often started with no knowledge of where they’ll end. The sort of things people say instead of the truths they so desperately seek to impart. The kind of truth I would listen to wholeheartedly, but until they lost themselves in their own ramblings that they told such things or truly trusted in me then I would listen to their posture, which was usually even more telling. 

The shaking hands after a car backfires or when there is too much silence to fill. The way eyes dart through a room, establishing exits. The licking of lips when lying. The hand on the back of their neck. 

He fell silent after a time, hand in his pocket, frowning at the ground. I decided to be kind and ask a small question about his daughter to start him talking again. 

“We don’t know each other very well, do we Sam?” His eyes met mine with a thousand yard stare. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent in this lighting. “Even if we were pals, you didn’t come to my wedding.” 

“I wasn’t back from the war yet.”

His eyes dropped back again. “That’s true.” He sighed and grinned halfheartedly. “I haven’t had an easy time of it, ya know?” He would have made a gesture with his left hand and what little was left twitched at the thought, but his eyes stared back at the house. “Guess I’m a bit cynical now…”

I knew he had good reason to. Hell, we all had our demons, but most were found in the trenches not after. His kind of thinking wasn’t going to help him through anything, so I tried to focus on the daughter asking after her again softly. 

“She’s young. Talks, eats, and that sort of thing.” He slowly rose himself up, puffing out his chest like the proud father he knew he was supposed to be. He grinned a little mischievously, almost like the old Bucky I knew. “You wanna hear about when she was first born?”

I nodded a little, waiting for him to continue. “Well, I had been wearing a hole in the floor, pacing, nervous and all. I heard the scream, you know the first one that we all let rip when we enter this world, and just burst right into the room not caring if it were proper or anything. I just had to ask, you know, was it a boy or a girl? The nurse told me it was ‘A beautiful and healthy baby girl.’ Well, I couldn’t help it. I just cried right there. I couldn’t hold her on account of my arm and all, but I just leaned over the crib they put her in. I told her, ‘Yes. Yes! It is good you’re a girl. Being a girl means you can play the fool and no one will question it. The world will expect nothing more. So, play the fool, my darling girl!’ Shows you a lot about how I’ve come to feel, right?

“It’s just with all these things I’ve seen and done. Can’t I be a little foolish? You can be wise in the ways of the world, even weary from it! Yet, as soon as you pretend to be a fool, even if only to escape from the realities of this cruel world, others are so apt to laugh at you. Or worse! Implore you to smarten up, as if they expected more! But I have more and I know more, just because I am more than what I want to be, doesn’t mean I can’t still be a fool for everyone else. Why can’t I just be the fool? Is this not a time for frivolity?! I thought the war was over…” 

Bucky’s wish seemed hollow, but his eyes sparkled with the same intensity that they used to when he would get into a heated debate at one of the bars. He was prone to these sorts of monologues in the past, but it seemed to me that he hadn’t indulged himself in one in quite some time. I felt a little bit uneasy at the words. I wanted to help my friend, or at least the flashes I saw of him, but he seemed to be struggling with something that I was not familiar. 

We walked inside after Bucky had finished wrestling with whatever had compelled him to say such things, a light practiced smile stretching across his face. 

Dottie and Miss Romanov were on opposite end of the couch and were speaking in rough clipped Russian, none of which I understood. But it didn’t matter because as soon as we entered the room, it stopped. 

Miss Romanov stretched her legs and rose giving a slight yawn at the clock, “Ten o’clock. It’s simply past this girl’s bed time.” She smirked. 

Dottie put on her false bright voice, just dripping with sweetness, “Natasha’s a dancer. We are lucky she had tonight off! She’s preforming tomorrow night!” 

I remembered I had seen her on the posters that an important Russian ballet company was in town. Her face could be seen with 27 other dancers in the background. The intensity and grace of the face on the poster was different from the much lighter one she had worn most of this evening. I remembered once hearing a gruesome story about her once, a rumor about the Russian ballet centered around her and the girls of her company, but I had forgotten the details. 

“Wake me up at 8.” She tossed lightly to Bucky or Dottie. “Good night Mr. Wilson, I’ll be seeing you again.” She smoothly glided up the stairs with the deadly, quiet grace that she wanted everyone to see and know. 

Bucky grinned, “Of course you will! I’ll arrange the whole marriage!” He laughed. “Even if I have to lock the two of ya in a closet or push ya out to sea!” 

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear you! Don’t make me regret that, Buck!” Miss Romanov’s voice carried from above. 

Bucky laughed like he used to. Until Dottie cut in with a tilt of her head, “Did you two have a good heart to heart on the veranda?” 

Bucky stopped, looking down at his feet and said rather sarcastically, “Yes, yes, I think we talked about sports and all.” He winked at me. 

“Oh don’t believe a word he says Sam,” Dottie dismissed with a wave of her hand. “He’s clearly not the brain of this operation!” She barked a harsh laugh before leaving for bed. 

Not long after that, I drove home. Dusk had given way into night, and the sprinkle of stars could be glimpsed through the trees in patches. It was nights like these I missed flying, the rush of nothing but you, your tin can, and the night sky. It was in the calm of the night while still in friendly territory I could relax. I was invisible and all seeing at once. 

It was in these pleasant memories I lost myself on that drive. When I was home, the bullfrogs called me to enjoy the night sky a little longer. The shadow of a cat slunk by me, drawing my eye towards the bay. 

It was there I saw the silhouette of a man. His shoulders were quite broad, his torso sharply sloped down to his narrower hips where his hands rested. I knew in that moment that was Mr. Rogers himself, gazing over the slice of American heaven that he claimed as his own. 

I was going to call out to him. Tell him, Miss Romanov had mentioned him, but I knew better. He was clearly lost in his own head, as I had so recently been lost in mine. His arm reached out towards the water, which was strange. I followed the movement to across the bay where a faint red light could be seen. It looked almost star-like across the bay. When I turned my head to look back at Mr. Rogers, he was already gone. I just shook my head and went inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Dottie's... mistress? Kept-man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter, and sorry it takes so long to update but I will be continuing with it!

About half way between West Egg and New York, there is this stretch of road that shrinks away from a desolate field of ashes to run beside the railway. The ash settles into the shapes of ridges and valleys, forms into the shapes of houses and chimneys, floats in the wind and looks like men walking. It crumbles into the fleeting shapes of cars and obscures the flurry of activity that occurs when they stop. 

Above all this, the eyes, or rather eye, of Director Nicholas Fury sits watching you through the grey. The eye of Director Nicholas Fury is wide and looks slightly annoyed, his other eye is covered by an eye patch. There is strangely no face attached. It must have been put up to attract more customers to his eye patch shop, although I couldn’t fathom that the war had created that great of a need for them. No one could quite remember what had become of the Director, or how he had earned the title. But as the truth had faded from memory, his poster faded under the sun and rain while scrutinizing the disappointing city of ash below. 

Sometimes, the drawbridge of the river must be raised thus forcing the unfortunate cars to stop and stare over the miserable town. It was because of such a stop that I first met Dottie’s… Mistress? Kept man? I am to this day unsure what to call him or the arrangement for that matter. 

It was a pretty well-known fact, Dottie would just show up places with him and then walk around making sure her presence was known. It was difficult for many people, but either because of her station as a celebrity or her murderous walk and smile, no one said much about it. I was bothered by it because of Bucky, but I was unsure if he had a similar arrangement, perhaps even with Miss Romanoff, so I held my tongue. I had no desire to meet him, but Dottie had a way of getting what she wanted. We were on the train to New York passing by the city when it stopped in the ashy middle ground and she soundlessly leapt to her feet declaring, “You must meet my man!” Then she looped her arm in mine and forced me off the train with surprising strength. 

Director Nicolas Fury’s gaze followed our journey through the city with his disappointed eye. There weren’t many filled shops, nothing but ash really. We finally stopped in front of a garage with a sign over it- Repairs. BRUCE BANNER. Cars bought and sold. - and I followed Dottie inside. 

The inside was just as dusty as the outside, and the only car in the shop sat in the corner looking beyond repair. A few odd machines lay half-finished and discarded on the ground. Perhaps this was just a blind and there were nice apartments behind all of this, I hoped this for the sake of the nervous looking man who appeared from behind a door. He was wiping his hands on an old rag, his shoulders curled in on themselves making him look tired. His nervous flickering eyes brightened with a little hope as he noticed us. 

“Brucey, old friend, I am sooo glad to see you!” Dottie plastered on her widest smile. “How’s business?”

“I can’t complain…” He replied unconvincingly. “When are you going to sell me that car?”

She waved her hand, “Oh! I can be just such a ditz! Next week,” She placed one hand over her heart and her other on his forearm, he flinched a little. “I swear I’ll get my man on it.”

He just raised an exasperated eyebrow, “He works pretty slow, doesn’t he?”

The smile slipped off of Dottie’s face and to the floor, one hand lowered from her chest but the one on Bruce’s arm remained locked on. “No, I don’t really think so. Maybe I should sell it somewhere else…”

Bruce shrunk away, “No I didn’t mean that. I meant-“ His voice died away.

Dottie looked bored around the shop now. Then, I heard frantic shoes tapping down the steps. Blocking out the light was the figure of a surprisingly short man. He was adjusting the tie of his well-tailored suit, the cut too expensive for such a garage. His goatee centered its self around a smirking mouth and his eyes didn’t hesitate to look both Dottie and myself up and down thoroughly. Although he seemed a bit lewd, his eyes had a sense of intelligence that dared anyone to challenge him as they flickered around the room taking everything in. He put his oddly yellow sunglasses on, as he seemed to walk right past his obviously more than just business associate and shook hands with Dottie. 

“Hey did you ever get that miniaturized engine fixed, I’m sure Dottie would love to see it. I think it’s going to be a real hit with kids. Big money maker. Why don’t you get it for us Bruce?” He slapped him on the back and grinned at everyone.

“Uh yeah sure… It’s right-yeah…” Bruce shrunk away, the ash of the garage swallowing him.

Dottie leaned in, grinning wickedly which only further encouraged Tony, “I want you to get on the next train and meet us you know where.” She winked and pushed him away walking out the door without looking to see if he’d follow. 

Director Fury’s disapproving gaze looked down on them as they walked through the ash coated streets. “So Tony’s… Bruce doesn’t object?”

“Oh no he thinks he’s visiting his sister or something in the city. That man doesn’t have a spine anyways, couldn’t stand up if he tried.” 

So, I spent the rest of the train ride to New York trying not to notice Tony’s hand climbing higher up Dottie’s leg. I managed to do so with minimal sarcastic comments and jabs at Stark, which to his credit he managed to volley back pretty well. 

Once we were in the city, I really didn’t want to witness whatever they were going to continue at their apartment. However, as I tried to make excuses to leave, Tony stopped me, “No! I’ll invite Rhodey the two of you will get along great!” He flashed me his charismatic grin while subtly leading me towards the apartment. “You know what I’ll even invite Pepper and Jarvis! They’ll love you!”

The apartment was small by any standards and the big personality giving the tour only made it feel more crowded. Some sketches of machine parts lay scattered around the living room. The booze cabinet was by far the largest piece of furniture and its doors were flung open with child-like glee as they quickly indulged themselves. 

Luckily, I was quickly saved from witnessing more of the drink filled flirtations as there was a knock on the door and Rhodey was let in. He was clearly ex-military, like myself and many others, and seemed to be used to suddenly being invited to Tony’s parties at the last minute. I had a feeling we would be spending most of the night together cringing and laughing at the antics that were bound to ensue. 

Pepper was very tall and looked as if she had just come from a business meeting. She was very direct firmly shaking my hand and seemed to be prepared to apologize for everything that was about to happen. Jarvis was the most British man I had ever meet. Apparently, his father Jarvis the first had actually raised Tony and himself. Although, no one could quite figure out how they both ended up so differently. 

The room seemed to fill with Tony as he effortlessly bounced from conversation to conversation delivering just the right punch-line to keep everyone laughing and drinking. Dottie seemed to hang back watching how everyone interacted with one another. 

We were joking around about how Jarvis, an amateur photographer, should photograph Tony who was trying out different poses from the magazine covers. Jarvis looked mildly flustered at first before he dryly replied with a biting comeback. But then Dottie’s mood darkened and she stood up from the couch she was previously lounging on the couch. 

“Tony darling why haven’t you gotten some ice and mineral water before everyone drops dead of thirst?” 

He made an awkward chuckle in reply, “Ha! I always seem to be forgetting things like this, it’s the little things that slip past. Have to have an army of machines just to keep on top of things! What a future it will be.” He winked at our group before he shuffled into the kitchen. 

Pepper couldn’t resist playing the diplomat, “You know Jarvis has done some wonderful work out on Long Island.”

Dottie turned to face him with an overly large smile, “Why Jarvis isn’t that just marvelous!”

Jarvis was clearly not used to so much attention from the towering woman, “Um yes, I call them ‘Montauk Point- The Gulls’ and ‘Montauk Point- The Sea’. It’s a lovely place.”

Rhodey joined me on the couch. “You living out on Long Island too?”

“West Egg.” I nodded back. 

“Oh, I know West Egg. I was at a party there about a month ago. With that Rogers guy. You know him?”

“He’s my neighbor actually.”

“I heard he’s actually the nephew of Kaiser Fennhoff and that’s where he got his money from.” 

“Really?”

Any new information that I could have gotten on my neighbor was interrupted as Dottie burst out laughing at a very annoyed Jarvis. 

“Why not?! Tony could give you an introduction you know. You could do some character studies of Bruce. The recluse in the garage! You’ll give him a letter of introduction, won’t you dear?” 

Tony walked in with a tray full of drinks. He looked confused and not happy to be put in that position. “What am I doing?”

“You’ll give Jarvis here a letter of introduction to your pal, Bruce, so that he can do a character study. You know the very average working man and all.”

Rhodey looked down into his drink as he leaned towards me slightly. “Neither of them can stand who they’re with. I don’t know why they even bother much anymore, she only has to divorce Bucky, who’s clearly not happy either, and Tony can’t even officially say he’s with Bruce so there is really nothing holding him back.” He sighed. “I don’t know why they need to make it so difficult.”

Dottie and Tony continued to bicker, until he decided to sit in front of me and tell me the story of how they met. 

“So, I was taking the train to New York to see these jokers over here. When this dame walks in and sits across from me, she’s blonde, tall and gorgeous. Of course, I start to put on that patented Stark charm. I was right up against her arm as we were waiting to get off the train and she says she’s going to have to call a policeman over but I just laugh because we both know that’s not true. Next thing I know, we’re in a taxi together and I’m thinking ‘Well you’ve got to live life fully!’”

It seemed like an hour passed with almost nothing occur and then one after the next, until finally around midnight Dottie and Tony were arguing over whether or not he had the right to say Bucky’s name.

“Bucky! James! I’ll say any of his names whenever I want!” He leered at her. “Bucky! Bucky! Bucky! Fucking James “Bucky” Barnes-“

In one swift and powerful movement, she broke his nose with her open hand. There was bloody towels and raised voices in the bathroom. Jarvis woke up from where he was dozing on the couch, as Pepper and Rodney tried in vain to treat Tony who was trying to run away from their drunken mothering. 

Eventually, Jarvis took me to the train station and the rest of the fragments of the evening were lost as I sat waiting for the four o’ clock attempting to read the paper and regain some sense of normalcy.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if that was a bit long! Any and all feedback is welcome and highly encouraged as I try to get Sam's voice right for this. So yay or nay? I will definitely be continuing with this fic so stay tuned! Any predictions on who is going to be who? I have them all written out but I would love to hear who you think matches up.


End file.
